Conspiracy Theories
By Lady Pyrefly
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A box. A plain cardboard box. It really shouldn't cause so much terror in an agent who has faced so much. Special Agent Dana Scully swallowed harshly and looked away. She couldn't, that's all. She just couldn't.
Still. She ought to. Mulder…well, it was a bit too soon to be thinking of Mulder.
Even after six weeks, it was too soon. Scully wondered if it would ever NOT be too soon.
She sighed, shook her head, and pulled the cardboard box toward her. "Calm down, calm down," she told herself sternly. Scully tilted the box on the corner of her metal desk, and peered in at the contents: A manila folder, an envelope with her name on it, a handgun, and a piece of white paper all rolled up and tied with a rubber band.
Scully reached for the handgun first, a wimpy little pistol with six cylinders. She smiled sadly at it. Mulder had once again lost his gun. Scully was unprepared for the tears that welled up in her eyes.
Next was the envelope. Scully opened it carefully, reverently. It was just a bio for her dearly departed partner. Disgusted at it's neutrality, she threw it into the trashcan underneath her desk. It didn't mention anything specific about him! It didn't say a word about his dedication in his conspiracy theories, didn't say anything about his half-smile when he knew everyone thought he was crazy. The bio didn't mention the way he hugged her after a particularly close call, didn't talk about the way he used to make her believe in something other than what was in front of her nose. Scully glanced at the pistol. The bio didn't even inform about Mulder's tendency to lose his gun. That bio could have been written about anyone.
A few tears dripped down Scully's pale cheek, and she didn't even bother to wipe them away. Maybe she missed him. No, Scully was sure she missed her partner.
Frustrated, Scully ripped open a drawer in her desk, grabbed the antacids from the bottom, and slammed it shut again. And again and again and again. Mulder was gone, and she didn't even get to say goodbye. He just left, one day, for a lone assignment on her off day, and never came back. "Presumed dead" vague bio had said.
The tears blurring her eyes, Scully reached into the horrid cardboard box and pulled out the roll of paper. She tugged off the rubber band, and Mulder's poster unfurled. It was his favorite, the blurry photo of the alien, and the hopeful message of, "I want to believe." But maybe the picture was just fuzzy because of the tears in Scully's hazel eyes.
What would Mulder say, if he was here? He would say 'Stop crying, Scully. It's okay.' Then he'd provide some odd explanation, some conspiracy theory for his own disappearance. Disappearance, not death
That was it. There was no way Mulder could be dead. No. Just no. He was probably abducted by aliens, or the Cigarette Smoking Man had him, or…or something. But whatever it was, Mulder was not dead. Not dead.
Scully wiped the tears from her eyes and stood up. It was just a conspiracy, all of this. Just a conspiracy, and Scully had unwound many of those in her career. She headed out the door of her office, and down the elevator.
A small, yellowing envelope with her name on it lay still at the bottom of the cardboard box.
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Author's Note: This is my first X-Files story, although I absolutely adore the series. I hope you liked this, even if it's just a one-shot. Please review! But, don't ask me what happened to Mulder, because I have no idea either.